


O Unholy Night, A Hell of a Christmas Party

by orphan_account, SparkleInTheStars, vol_ctrl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Christmas Party, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Light Bondage, M/M, Mistletoe, Office Party, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21948988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleInTheStars/pseuds/SparkleInTheStars, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl/pseuds/vol_ctrl
Summary: Aziraphale drags a reluctant Crowley to Heaven's Christmas office party, but shortly after their arrival, all Hell breaks loose.  Gabriel included demons on the guest list.  Now the punch has been spiked and Hastur's determined to make mischief.  Crowley hopes they'll survive to see the New Year and to tie up a loose end or at least an angel...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 124
Collections: O Lord Heal This Gift Exchange





	O Unholy Night, A Hell of a Christmas Party

**Author's Note:**

> To Mama OAbs - Our Friend, Fearless Leader, and Sheen Fanatic Extraordinaire  
> From - Bibs, BZ, Ettie, Fiend, Sparkie, and V with more tender, horny, feral love than you can imagine.
> 
> This was a group project by the mods of the O Lord Heal This Server discord as a Holiday Thank You for OAbs. We all contributed to this extravaganza. For we see all that you do and all you do that we never see.

“Angel…” Crowley grumbled and fidgeted with his collar. He wasn’t prone to collared shirts, at least not in the past seventy or so years, and this one frankly felt like a noose. 

“Crowley, dear, we’re already here.” Aziraphale said, his hands folded primly in front of him. Crowley raised a brow at him as he noticed him fidgeting. Aziraphale caught the minute look and stilled his hands, setting his shoulders. “Gabriel invited us. It would be a larger slight _not_ to come.”

Crowley’s brow scrunched and he shook his head. “I still can’t imagine that asshole inviting us.”

Aziraphale gave his beloved a bemused smile. “Gabriel is a bit… er… excitable when it comes to Christmas time.”

“Rabid, I think you mean,” Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale shot Crowley a look out of the corner of his eye that at once said _behave_ and _I love you._

The elevator ding sounded rather cheery for what felt like the opening note of a funeral dirge to Crowley’s ears. “Well. Here goes nothing,” Crowley sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he sauntered out of the elevator. “Should we take bets on whether this is another attempt to obliviate us?”

Aziraphale fell in step beside Crowley. “Really, dear, it’s just the annual holiday party.”

“ _Christmas_ party, angel,” Crowley grinned through gritted teeth. “Don’t get too PC.”

The strains of Christmas carols greeted them in the hall before they reached the open doors. The air carried a Hallmark-perfect scent of holly, pine, cinnamon, and wine. They were welcomed by vibrant holly garlanded over the doorway strung with red and green lights blinking cheerfully.

Crowley sighed as he glanced at Aziraphale from the corner of his glasses. “You get this one for Christmas,” he muttered. Looking at Aziraphale, he couldn’t help but soften just a tad, unaware of how his pupils dilated in autonomic response. “But New Year’s is mine,” he promised with a quirk of his lips.

Crossing the threshold, Crowley seemed even more hunched than usual, his elbows and shoulders all angles as they walked into the large room. It was decorated to the point of being suffocating; countless wreaths on the walls, all with their own theme, several advent calendars, each more elaborate than the last, and even the ceiling was hung with oversized ornaments. The high ceiling allowed for an enormous tree that was tastefully placed in the far corner, but dripping with so many glittering garlands, trinkets, and lights that it hurt to look at.

Crowley was so taken with squinting at its brilliance that he failed to notice Gabriel until the archangel was upon them.

“Aziraphale!” he said brightly, all smiles, as if the last time he had seen Aziraphale he hadn’t told him to shut up and die in so many words.

Aziraphale pursed his lips into a polite smile to stifle the laughter that threatened to spill as he saw what Gabriel had chosen to wear for this year’s Christmas party. Every year it was something new, and this year he had really outdone himself. Not only was he wearing a Christmas sweater that included all of the highlights of the festive season, the lights embroidered on it actually lit up. All that was missing was its own soundtrack.

“Crowley.” Gabriel’s smile dimmed a few degrees, and he could not help but look down his nose at the demon, hunched as he was. “So glad you could make it,” Gabriel said, snapping back to Aziraphale with renewed warmth.

“Thanks for inviting us, Gabriel,” Aziraphale said, swallowing down his apprehension. He didn’t want to admit that he had carried a little hint of worry in the back of his mind that this was some trap.

“Christmas is a time for family! Even estranged family,” Gabriel said warmly, without even a hint of remorse.

Crowley frowned, shoulders nearly to his ears as he eyed the demons in attendance. Yup, looked like the gang was all here. Most of them were huddled around the punch bowls, or trying to find any hope of a shadowy corner away from the blinding Christmas tree. Crowley was careful to note where Hastur was. Beelzebub may have exiled him, but Hastur had a personal grudge against him after the holy water prank. Even by Crowley’s standards, it was a bit of a dark prank. 

“Exiled, you mean,” Crowley muttered. “Yeah, good to see you, too,” he said with a sardonic grin. “Come on, angel.” He grabbed Aziraphale by the arm and tugged him around Gabriel. 

Aziraphale drifted off with what he hoped was an appeasing smile. “H-happy Christmas, Gabriel!” he said as he tottered off on Crowley’s arm.

“Merry Christmas!” Gabriel said, full of spirit, and marched off to find his counterpart and resume the festivities.

Despite the archangel’s usual reluctance to consume gross matter, there was in fact food on offer. As Crowley got a closer look, he presumed that it had been Hell’s contribution. There was _too_ much food--an excess of it--and none of it had as much nutritional value as it did calories. Crowley could practically smell the butter wafting off the savory offerings, and the sweets hurt his teeth to look at.

“Oh, what a lovely spread,” Aziraphale preened.

Crowley went straight for the nearest punch bowl. He ladelled himself a healthy cup of mulled wine as Aziraphale picked out a precious sugar cookie in the shape of a Christmas tree. The demon downed a gulp of wine, then almost spit it back up.

“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley wiped his mouth.

“Don’t drink the punch,” he said hoarsely. He looked at the other buffet tables, one on each side of the room to accommodate the Heavenly and Hellish hosts. The demons weren’t just congregating around the punch bowls, they were migrating. And apparently they hadn’t communicated with each other about their rounds, as he saw each tangle of demons going around to _every_ punch bowl.

Crowley cleared his throat. “It’s spiked,” he said in a thready tone.

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked. He drew closer and then sniffed the punch Crowley held toward him. “ _Oh._ Oh my. That’s--that’s more than spiked, I dare say.”

Crowley’s fingers tightened on the clear plastic cup, then he brought it back to his nose and sniffed. “That’s better,” he said and tested it with a sip. He sighed, then smiled at Aziraphale. “Want some?”

“Unspiked,” Aziraphale confirmed, then glanced around the room. “Do you think the other angels…?”

Crowley shrugged and allowed himself an easy grin. “Could be fun.”

Aziraphale eyed Crowley as the demon passed him a miraculously unspiked cup of mulled wine. “Perhaps,” he agreed.

The carols that rang to the rafters were not being played from a sound system, but from a chorus of honest-to-goodness cherubs in one corner. It was quite lovely--until Hell had decided they wanted something a bit different to serenade the party. A veritable gaggle of Erics had gathered, apparently not aware of the spiked-spiked punch, in the opposite corner and began singing tainted versions of the carols sung by the cherubs, egged on by some rowdy dukes of Hell.

The cacophony provided just enough distraction that Gabriel’s frowning fellow archangels failed to notice him luring Beelzebub toward a sprig of mistletoe hung in the arch of one of the large windows that overlooked London. It also proved distracting enough that no one noticed the lone demon braving the brilliance of the Christmas tree.

Hastur scowled at the foul display of cheeriness and rifled in his coat for a lighter, matches, or some tucked-away molotov cocktail. It occurred to him after a moment of rustling in his coat that he had the very tool at his fingertips: Hellfire. That would put an end to this offensive display.

***

The hellfire flame flickering under the mess of pine needles was suddenly half obscured by a soft blue mug that was quickly heating up, hovering as it was above the flicker flame. Hastur looked up, fathomless eyes narrowing in annoyance at Aziraphale’s gently smiling face.

“There we go, much better use for your hands than whatever that business is, don’t you think?” The demon was luckily too distracted by his annoyance to note the faint tremor in Aziraphale’s hands; terrified to be so close to even a small flicker of hellfire. He held himself still, doing his best to keep up the ruse of being immune. Then he was very suddenly pulled back, the mug dropping into Hastur’s hands and spilling a slosh of scorching mulled wine over the demon’s flesh. He let out a screech that was almost a giggle and grasped his hands tight around the mug; so tight it almost cracked.

“What the bloody heaven are you doing, angel?”

Aziraphale pulled his arm away from Crowley’s grasp with a pointed look. “Avoiding any more fuss than needed. We hardly need whatever Gabriel might do as a tantrum in retribution, and I _am_ immune to hellfire after all.”

Crowley’s jaw tensed but he let out a slow breath through his nose and finally nodded tersely. “Just put up with it like the rest of us and stop being a bother to my angel.” He shot at the duke before turning on his heel and stalking back towards the table that was still groaning under the weight of demonic finger foods. He halted when he realised he didn’t want to be **there** either, a frustrated huff of breath escaping him.

“ _My_ angel?” Aziraphale’s voice lilted like the quirk of an eyebrow and Crowley didn’t have to see his face to know he was being _a bastard_.

“Wha-I-Ngk. You know what I _mean_ Angel. I don’t give a fiddler’s fart what happens to any other angel but… _Our side_ , you know? Don’t make it a big deal over it. You _know._ ”

Aziraphale tried hard to hide the slightly mischievous glint to his smile as he nodded, “Mmm. It’s been years after all.” 

Michael stood at the edges of the party, watching the two traitors like a hawk and subsequently found Hastur on her radar too. The archangel had her clipboard out and single-eared headset perched over a suitably coiffed, and only slightly less severe, hairdo. She glowered at the Erics in the corner. By now they had transitioned from bastardised carols into Slade which seemed to be causing a suitable level of pain to all angels in the immediate area, and a good handful of demons as well.

“Well, time to move on to-”

“Sorry, it’s too late for that.”

Michael felt a muscle twitch in their jaw, turning their head slowly to level her glower on Dagon instead. “What do you mean? Other than _your_ interruptions we’re perfectly on-”

“Too late. Sorry.” The Lord of the Files grinned, mouth stretched wide over far too many teeth. “Looks like we’re going to have to move straight onto-”

“Bit too late for that, don’t you think Dagon?” Crowley drawled as he was led past by Aziraphale, relishing the look of annoyance that flashed across the lord’s face.

“Crowley. Do not make _me_ make _you_ regret coming here.” Dagon intoned, dry and sincere.

Crowley snorted an, “Already there,” under his breath and continued to pass on as he was increasingly, forcefully, encouraged to continue walking rather than falling back to snark with one of his former bosses.

In the meantime, Hastur had recomposed himself and had taken it as his personal task to remove or defile the eyesore that was the Christmas tree one way or another. This time the spun glass ornaments were popping, fizzling, and bubbling as maggots tried to find their way inside; only to find that their ethereal appearance was due to the literal angelic energy that made their forms.

“Uriel,” Michael barked into the headset, trusting that it would work exactly as expected. “I need you to run interference on one of the dukes. The frog.”

There were a few long beats of silence before a confused voice filtered back through. “Micheal? Where are you? Did you get small? I can’t see you.”

“Wh-what are you talking about? It’s the communication device. You remember this, surely? I need you to deal with Hastur.”

Crowley smirked as Aziraphale led him back to the laden table only to spot another couple of Erics at one punch bowl and two particularly shifty looking demons by the bowl at the end. One was shielding the other with an alarming lack of success while they dumped the contents of their hip flask into the now murky bowl.

“Gotta wonder what’s in that thing by now...” Crowley mused as he watched Uriel with an almost-full mug in her hand swaying from side to side. “Gotta be practically paint stripper by now.”

Aziraphale blanched a little at the thought, lips pressing into a tight line. Curiosity killed the cat and alcohol poisoning might just catch a demon; if he believed enough that it could. “Really must you talk like that Crowley? While you were complaining about them attempting to obliviate us again, it more than looks like they’re trying to do the same to each other.”

“Yeah, and this time we get to watch the show, angel. Let them stew in their own bad decisions for once. Too busy starting fires and drowning each other to even halfway look at us.”

“Well, I suppose that may just be true.” Aziraphale passed into thoughtful silence before taking Crowley’s hand again, leading him towards the back of the party where there were fewer eyes.

“Oh no, angel, what are you up to now?”

“There may be a dark corner we can retreat into.” That smile again, smug in itself and far too much of a bastard to belong to Heaven.

“A dark corner? In Heaven? Sounds about as likely as Hastur tempting Wank Wings into strip poker.” Aziraphale pulled a face at that. “Well I know that they’re all very traditional ‘sweetness and light’ here but, yes, I believe that there are likely places that don’t match up to the very well crafted façade. Quite surprisingly.”

***

There was, in fact, a dark corner in Heaven. Crowley would’ve found it amusing if he wasn’t distracted by the devious little grin on the angel’s lips. Aziraphale stepped closer and the demon found himself snug to the wall, blue eyes burning a searing hole into his heart. It was the type of burn that made one’s reptilian heart flutter…

“So, you refer to me as _your_ angel?” Aziraphale smiled giddily, half from the endearment of a certain demon, and half from the punch.

“Ngk… I… W-well…” Crowley stuttered, face as red as his hair as he tripped over his words. Aziraphale just grinned at him like the bastard he was and looked around the room. No one paid them any mind.

“Do you want your present, Crowley? I don’t see the harm in giving you a gift early.”

“A gift?” The demon’s serpentine eyes gleamed mischievously, “Angel, you didn’t have to do that. I thought we weren’t exchanging.”

The angel just gave the demon one of his otherworldly smiles. “You deserve it, my dear boy.”

Crowley found himself momentarily distracted by a beautiful red-headed woman getting handsy with a curly-haired Welshman. The serpent sighed.

“Sorry… s’just… every time we invite Sheen to these things, the bastard’s a full on slut. How’d they even get in here?”

“Well, he is quite handsome. I don’t blame that woman a bit.” Aziraphale turned to look, blushing at the ferocity of the lovers’ snogging. “However, I think you far exceed Sheen’s charms. Perhaps we’ll pass the mistletoe and I could demonstrate how darling you are to me, Crowley.”

The angel leaned in close, eyes drifting to Crowley’s lips. The demon leaned in.

_Kiss me, angel. I want you to show me you like being mine._

Just as he was about to kiss him, a loud eruption of noise came from behind.

“Aziraphale! Join the party! Stop making out with the enemy and conga!”

Gabriel grabbed the principality by the arm and before either of them could protest, the angel was swept up into the Heavenly Hellish conga line.

“Dammit.” Crowley sighed, wanting nothing more than to open his present early.

***

Aziraphale had pouted, cajoled, and begged to come to the party. The only reason he'd agreed to accompany the angel had been the prospect of upsetting the archangels with lots of PDA. Then, as they were dressing for the party, Crowley putting on a tie and collared shirt Aziraphale had insisted on, the angel had sprung a final surprise on him.

"Now I know you want to flaunt our relationship, but let's not antagonize them. I'm hoping this is the first step towards peace."

"These are the same people who tried to end the world not that long ago, angel," Crowley sighed. "And your side was as keen or more so than mine was on war."

"Yes, well. I can't help hoping-"

Crowley half listened as Aziraphale droned on before finally cutting him off, "So I'm not allowed to hold your hand, let alone kiss you. Nothing that would give the impression I've been railing you on an almost nightly basis since-"

"Yes, yes. No need for such language," Aziraphale protested with a blush.

"What's in this for me exactly?"

"I'll agree to sneak into Eden for a round of Serpent ravishing innocent angel," Aziraphale offered in a sensual tone. "And you can pick where we go for New Years Eve."

"You agreed to that when I stopped outside that damn church in July because you thought their ice cream social looked, and I quote, charming."

"Oh dear," Aziraphale sighed then brightened. "Maybe we could make a game of it. I'll act all shy, like we never kissed. Then I'll let you get me under the mistletoe. Maybe act like I'm giving you a kiss."

That made the demon smirk. Aziraphale could play innocent angel for a few hours, but at the end of the night, Crowley would seize his chance. There was no way he was wasting an opportunity to throw their relationship in Gabriel's face. Aziraphale didn't realize it, but he was setting him up to have the perfect gift.

Of course Crowley hadn't counted on how disastrous the whole evening would be. This was rapidly ranking up there with the M25 catastrophe.

Crowley scanned the crowd nervously for Aziraphale. They’d been separated for nearly fifteen minutes. An increment of time that was ordinarily barely worth noting, but tonight’s party was anything but ordinary. All Hell (and Heaven too, for that matter) had been breaking loose practically since the start of the night. They’d been separated when a conga line of angels and demons had plowed through them and swept Crowley’s angel along with it.

Closing his eyes, Crowley reached out with his powers through the din. He opened his eyes when he locked in on Aziraphale’s location. There in the corner, Aziraphale was pressed against the wall, trapped under the mistletoe with Hastur on one side and Sandalphon on the other.

Furious waves of power rose up within Crowley and he forced his way through the crowd, ignoring the madness. He pushed aside Aziraphale’s would-be suitors, grabbed Aziraphale, and kissed him. Not a sweet kiss, but one leaving no doubt in any mind, from the breathless angel to every last one of their former colleagues, that Aziraphale was very much taken.

The angel looked slightly dazed but far from displeased when the demon finally pulled back. It was the quietest the entire evening had been as their former colleagues stared. Knowing the pair was a couple was one thing; having it on display for nearly four solid minutes was quite another.

Michael began to splutter and move towards them. Still holding onto Aziraphale, Crowley snapped and they disappeared from the party.

“Really dear!” Aziraphale spluttered slightly as they appeared in the living room of their flat.

“Angel, enough is enough. It was a disaster start to finish and you know it. Done playing nicely. Demon, remember? Does not work well with others.”

Smiling slightly, the angel replied, “I think we work quite well together.”

“That’s different and you know it.”

“I suppose. But won’t they think it’s rude leaving without saying good bye?”

“I think they’ll be busy dealing with the sound system.” Golden eyes danced with wicked mirth behind the sunglasses as he started to unfasten his tie and unbutton the top two buttons of this shirt.

“Crowley-“

“Just queued up All I Want For Christmas Is You,” he replied.

“And what else,” Aziraphale demanded as Crowley smirked with satisfaction.

“On repeat.”

“Well, a song on repeat isn’t so- you look far too pleased with yourself. What did you do?!”

“It might stop on the highest note and just go on endlessly on one very high and slightly flat note.”

“Crowley!”

The angel’s soft sound of admonishment did nothing to deter the demon as he snapped a series of candles lit around the room and the stereo began to play softly.

“We never got to dance,” Crowley drawled.

“I tried to teach several demons the gavotte-” Aziraphale said, then trailed off as Crowley pulled him close and they started to sway to the music. “Oh, this is rather nice.”

“Quite,” Crowley agreed and slid his tie off. He took one of Aziraphale’s wrists and wound one end of the black silk around it. The angel continued to sway with him as a look of anticipation flickered on his face. Aziraphale watched as Crowley brought his other wrist up and bound them together.

The demon ducked down so he could bring Aziraphale’s bound wrists over his shock of red hair. Satisfied, Crowley danced slowly and trailed his fingers over Aziraphale’s bow tie and pulled it loose. Leaning forward, he kissed his angelic companion and stealthily slid his long fingers over the buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt.

Folding up his sunglasses and placing them in his jacket pocket, Crowley offered his bound companion a demonic smile before moving his mouth to the tender expanse of throat. He offered several light kisses before grazing the angelic flesh with his teeth; a thrill of pleasure as he succeeded in eliciting a raspy sound of desire from Aziraphale.

Crowley snapped his fingers and miracled away Aziraphale’s jacket, vest, and shirt. Once upon a time the angel would have protested, but they had come to an agreement as part of their new arrangement. The demon could miracle Aziraphale’s clothing out of the way, but it had to be sent either in a neatly folded pile to a nearby chair or onto hangers in their closet.

The tartan bow tie hung loosely around Azirphale’s bare neck. Crowley took the ends in one hand and pulled gently as he offered the angel another kiss.

“Step out of your shoes,” he instructed as he pulled the tartan bow away and it fluttered to the floor.

Steadying himself against Crowley, Aziraphale obeyed with a small shiver of anticipation. Some nights (and days too, for that matter), Crowley would slowly tease Aziraphale and bring him to orgasm repeatedly before slowly and deeply fucking the angel with an overwhelming tenderness. Other times, the demon would take him with an almost feral passion that left Aziraphale sore in the most delicious ways.

Aziraphale had anticipated the party might result in something like this afterwards and he was happy to comply. Seeing his former boss and the other angels had reminded him of how long he’d denied himself Crowley in an effort to do the right thing. Oddly enough, since the Apocanot and them forming their own side, he felt for the first time practically since Eden that he was doing the right thing. If the Almighty objected to his love for Her fallen angel, She had ample opportunity to express Her displeasure.

Nothing like a view of the past to appreciate one’s present, Aziraphale thought with a smile as Crowley’s fingers slid to unfasten the angel’s cream slacks. The demon caught the edge of Aziraphale’s underwear as well as his pants and pulled them down in a smooth motion. As he stepped out of them, Aziraphale was momentarily tempted to protest them being left on the floor, but as Crowley’s slender hand slid between his plump thighs, the pants were quickly forgotten.

“Sssspiked punch or not, Hasssstur and Ssssandalphon are lucky I didn’t discsssorporate them on the sssspot,” Crowley hissed as his hand wrapped around the angel’s stiffening cock. “You belong to me.”

 _Jealous_ , Aziraphale thought with a sense of pleasure. Most of the time, Crowley was reasonable about the angel’s interactions with others. However, on the rare occasions the demon felt jealousy, the results had been quite enjoyable.

“Perhaps you ought to remind me who I belong to,” Aziraphale provoked. It wasn’t necessary, they belonged to one another and rationally Crowley knew it. However after an evening in the company of their former bosses, the demon was on edge.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said in a warning tone, pulling back slightly and ducking so the angel’s wrists were no longer around the demon’s neck.

Wearing nothing but his tartan socks and sock garters, Aziraphale stood with his wrists bound and his cock twitching. Tension filled the air and he could feel demonic power coming off Crowley in waves. All the possessiveness, the odd mixture of darkness and light that was uniquely Crowley seemed to dance almost palpably in the space in between them. His cock grew harder as he watched the golden eyes blazing wildly.

A moment later, Crowley closed the space between them, his hand moved under Aziraphale’s chin and he kissed him. It was deceptively soft at first, deepening slowly until his serpentine tongue moved in a demanding rhythm. Lips and teeth met in a mixture of passion and fury. The edges of reality seemed to fade away as Crowley continued to kiss Aziraphale and pull him by the binding on his wrists.

Almost tripping onto the bed, Aziraphale sprawled in a rather undignified heap as Crowley miracled away his own clothing. The demon snapped his fingers and Aziraphale was lying on his back, his bound hands were now above his head and tethered to the ornately gilded headboard.

Crowley moved smoothly over the black silk sheets, his slight frame moving in an almost snake-like fashion. He climbed on top of Aziraphale and ground his hardening cock against the angel’s tumescent flesh. Once more, their mouths met in an aggressive kiss.

Eagerly, Aziraphale raised his hips against Crowley for more contact. When they made love sweetly, he enjoyed the demon opening him up slowly and taking their time. However tonight, he wanted Crowley inside him much sooner and to feel the possessiveness.

“Please,” Aziraphale murmured.

“Please what?”

“I want you. Want you inside me,” he urged.

Crowley grazed the side of Aziraphale’s throat with his teeth. “Who, angel? Tell me, who do you want inside you?”

“Y-y-you,” he panted urgently. “Crowley, dearest, please, I-“

The demon continued to tease Aziraphale’s neck with his teeth as his fingers moved over the angel, miracling a generous amount of lube in his puckered opening. Easing his hips between the softly rounded thighs, Crowley pressed his cock against Aziraphale’s eager hole and slid in slowly to the hilt.

As soon as he was inside all the way and sure he wasn’t hurting Aziraphale, his hips began to undulate. Slowly at first, and then faster. It was a rhythm a human would have been incapable of, but for a fallen angel with a serpentine movement and an unparalleled imagination, the thrusts were not only possible, but hit the right spot with every movement.

Aziraphale wrapped his legs around Crowley’s waist, silently urging him to take him even harder. The tangle of angelic and demonic flesh moved together as their pleasure mounted. Between them, Aziraphale’s cock wept with arousal, their bodies creating delicious friction for his throbbing member.

“You’re mine, angel. No one else’s. No other side but ours,” Crowley growled.

Teetering on the edge and the demon’s words pulling him closer, Aziraphale whimpered, “Our side. Yours. Crowley.”

The ability to think slipping away, Aziraphale cried Crowley’s name over and over as if the demon were the only thing that was keeping him from discorporating. His cock began to twitch and as his first tremors of pleasure began, Crowley shuddered and groaned, “Angel.”

For several minutes, Crowley remained inside Aziraphale, placing small kisses on the angel’s face. Aziraphale was normally fastidious, but after lovemaking, he rather liked feeling Crowley’s cum slowly leaking out of him. The demon moved off him and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale. Still restrained but content, Aziraphale smiled as Crowley absently trailed fingers over Aziraphale’s stomach and swirled through the angel’s cum.

“We didn’t exactly get our dance tonight,” Aziraphale remarked with a fond expression on his face.

“There’s always New Years,” Crowley replied.

“You’re not going to take us to one of those bebop clubs, are you?”

At that the demon laughed. “As a matter of fact, New Years is your Christmas gift.”

“Really? What?”

“It’s not Christmas morning.”

Aziraphale pouted. “It’s after midnight. Technically-”

“Very well,” Crowley sighed. “You remember how you told me a couple months ago that you wished we might have danced at a ball before they became obsolete?”

He nodded and regarded the demon with interest.

“Well, angel, it seems that if you pay an inordinate amount of money-”

“You mean miracle.”

“Miracled the money, but paid the lovely humans. Ineffable. Now, do you want your surprise or not?”

“Please.”

“Very well, if you pay an inordinate amount of money in Maastricht, there’s a concert and a party afterwards-‘

“Formal?” Aziraphale inquired excitedly.

“Yes.”

“You mean you’ll dress up-”

“Went to a human tailor and everything, angel.”

Aziraphale made an excited sound and wriggled. Climbing between the angel’s legs, Crowley grinned at him and gave him a kiss.

***

As all Hell broke loose in Heaven, an angel and a demon revelled in being on their own side...

**Author's Note:**

> The New Years Eve Event in Maastrict is referrring to Andre Rieu's annual NYE concert followed by a party with the orchestra that's quite grand and expensive, it has elements of the balls of the past which we thought Aziraphale would enjoy.
> 
> V aka Vol_Ctrl started us off at the party with festive ominousness
> 
> Ettie aka Eturni continued with Aziraphale putting out a fire with angelic charm
> 
> Fiend aka nothing_goldcanstay brought us an interrupted sweet and tender moment
> 
> Sparkie aka SparkleInTheStars concluded the story with a bit of feral passion
> 
> Bibs aka DragonBibilo contributed beta services, love and support every step of the way
> 
> BZ aka a_girl_with_many_fandoms contributed beta services, cheerleading, and support from start to finish
> 
> **No Sheens were harmed in the making of this fic.**


End file.
